Everything You Want
by Suka
Summary: He's everything Harry wants... But is he really? Warning: SLASH.


**Title: Everything You Want.**

**Author: Asuka-san.**

**Rating: PG13**

** **

**Author's Note: I actually wrote a HP fic. *faints* And I honestly don't know what possessed me. Truly. I can't believe I wrote _this _for my first HP slashfic. I blame it on my being far too easily inspired by music. I mean, at present I want to write a Snapefic with our dearest Potions master mourning over James... Honestly, I seem to be incapable of writing pairings that I actually _like_. But I digress – here's the official warning – this is SLASH. Did you read that? SLASH. S-L-A-S-H. SLASH. Right then. If you don't like that, but continue to read, at the very least flame me in a fashion that any respectable flamer can be proud of. Please, do your best to write with the poorest grammar you can possibly manage, and don't spare me your worst insults. If you're going to do a thing, do it properly. : ) Thank you, and I hope you like my fic. If you do, and even if you don't, please review. I really appreciate comments... Otherwise, how will I know whether or not I'm right, and if my fics really are disjointed and horrid?**

**Disclaimers: Harry Potter and all associated trademarks most certainly do not belong to me. They belong to Jo Rowling, and, according to the inside cover of my books, Warner Brothers. The song used, "Everything You Want", does not belong to me either. It belongs to Vertical Horizon, and whoever else can lawfully lay claim to it. **

********************

Ron smiles at me. It's that sweet smile, that one filled with adoration and love, that one that makes his eyes glow with warmth and affection. It makes my heart clench with guilt and some other horrible, unwanted emotion...

An awful longing for a different mouth to be curled into that blissful curve, a different pair of eyes to be watching me in adulation. An uneasy feeling that this is wrong, isn't how it's supposed to be.

"Harry?" I look up with a start at the sound of Ron's voice and the touch of his hand upon my shoulder. "You okay?" The concern in his voice causes my chest to tighten.

"I'm fine, lo-love." I can barely get the endearment to pass through my lips. 

Ron studies me for a moment longer, the smile briefly gone from his face. I grin weakly back at him. His smile returns, and it lights up his features again. "Good."

He leans over and kisses me. I respond, and close my eyes as he explores my lips, and do my best not to let a pale, blonde visage enter my head. I do, I really try my hardest not to allow that name to pop into my brain, and I block out that niggling voice at that back of my mind, the one that says –

NO. I can't do that. I can't think that. 

He pulls back. "Silly git. What were you thinking about, anyway?" he asks me. 

"Nothing," I reply quickly. A little too quickly, because he looks mildly affronted.

"I was just curious, Harry, no big deal." His goofy grin reappears. "Wanna know what I was thinking?"

I try my best to respond with enthusiasm. "What?" 

"How adorable you look." And his mouth stretches wider.

He's waiting for me to give some indication that I heard him, but I don't know if I can get past the lump in my throat to answer. I kiss him instead, and that seems to satisfy him.

"So," he says when we move apart, "do you have Quidditch practice this afternoon?"

I nod mutely.

"Right then," Ron stands and pecks my cheek, "I've got to go see Professor McGonnagall," he grimaces, "to discuss that incident with her desk last lesson. But I'll come and watch your practice, okay?"

I smile that same forced smile, and watch as he strides down the corridor. He turns and waves at me, blowing a kiss through the air before continuing down the hall. I sigh heavily.

********************

Somewhere there's speaking 

It's already coming in

Oh and it's rising at

The back of your mind

You could never get it

Unless you were fed it

Now you're here and you don't know why

********************

I stare at the mouldy grey wall in front of me. It looks no different to the last time I was here, five years ago, but that time I was in a body identical to Goyle's, and I had a purpose.

Right now, I have no idea what I'm doing standing outside of the Slytherin common room. 

Glancing around warily, I can't see anything - but I _can_ hear Pansy Parkinson's loud voice squawking away - and a familiar snigger - from around the corner. I panic, look around the corridor wildly, and spot a broom cupboard a few metres away, which I attempt to sprint towards.

I don't make it, but I do manage quite a stunning fall flat on my face.

Groaning, I roll over - and spot Pansy, who hasn't noticed me. Neither has Malfoy for that matter. Relieved, I get up and begin sneaking away, back towards the Griffyndor common room – where I belong, I tell myself firmly, for, oddly, I have a ridiculous desire to stay here and follow Malfoy into the Slytherins' when he uses the password to clear the way through.

But I tiptoe past Pansy and Malfoy. They're – my breath catches in my throat as I realise what they're doing. 

Malfoy's kissing Pansy. _Pansy Parkinson_.

The feeling in my stomach reminds me of the time Dudley made me eat a mudpie with several large slugs in it. Gut wrenchingly ill. 

And suddenly, watching Pansy kiss him, I feel a surge of jealousy towards her stronger than I've ever felt in my life. Which is completely illogical. Desperately, my mind tries to deny the emotion, but... I know I am. I'm... jealous.

And I think I know why I came here... It was Malfoy I wanted to see... 

I gasp softly as I realise this, and the two Slytherins finally notice me. Malfoy's lips curl into a sneer.

"What d'you want, Potter?" he drawls lazily, wrapping an arm around Pansy. For a few moments, I truly wish I knew how to use the Cruciatus curse. Especially so I could aim it at Pansy.

Instead, I stammer out the first thing that comes into my head. 

"I – I got lost."

********************

But under skinned knees and the skid marks

Past the places where you used to learn

You howl and listen

Listen and wait for the 

Echoes of angels who won't return

*********************

I wander through Hogwarts aimlessly, my mind a tangled mess. 

Everywhere I go in this stupid school reminds me of _him_. Malfoy. Draco.

I don't want to be reminded of him. I don't want to walk past the Potions room and be reminded of Malfoy snickering loudly at one of Neville's mishaps, or flashing a 'POTTER STINKS' badge at me. 

I don't want the pale blue that covers the roof of the Great Hall to remind me of his eyes.

Most of all, I don't want to be reminded that I even care. 

I don't know how I could do this. How could I be jealous? Jealous of _Pansy_ because she was with _Malfoy_?

I must be the stupidest, most thickheaded great prat in history, I think listlessly as I wander past the ladder leading to Professor Trelawney's classroom. I realise dimly that I should head towards the Quidditch pitch for practice. Ron will be there...

Ron. I have Ron, and he's everything any sane witch or wizard could want. He's caring and loyal, and I don't have any reason to be thinking about Malfoy. I'm just being stupid. Why should I care about Pansy and Draco? I have Ron... 

*********************

He's everything you want 

He's everything you need

He's everything inside of you 

That you wish you could be

He says all the right things 

At exactly the right time

But he means nothing to you

# And you don't know why

*********************

The wind whooshes swiftly through my hair as I rise quickly into the sky and guide my Firebolt through several loop-de-loops and sharp circles. I feel free up here, free for one of the only times in what seems like forever.

The rest of the Griffyndor team look like black splodges on the pitch below, but I can vaguely make out Ron walking over to one of the chasers as I call to them. "Going for a fly – won't be long!"

I soar away, over the edges of the Forbidden Forest, and the free feeling envelopes me again. In the air I can lose the emotions that have been plaguing me ever since we got back to Hogwarts at the start of this year, since even before that, when Ron and I first kissed over the summer, at the Burrow.

I can get rid of the guilt that washes over me when Ron gives me that look and I have to fake one to return to him.

I can even block out – a gust of air from the opposite direction stops my train of thought. "Lost again, Potter?" I recognise that voice and the jeering laugh accompanying it before the person it belongs to flies into my view.

My heart jumps at the sight of Malfoy on his broomstick, though I try my best to stop it from doing so at the same time as I try to still the wildly fluttering butterflies in my stomach. I hate this. 

He leers at me. "Where's your little boyfriend, Potter?" He glances at the Quidditch pitch behind me and curls up his nose. "Dumped you for that Mudblood Granger, has he?" I follow Malfoy's sneering gaze, and see that Hermione is indeed with Ron in the stands. Somehow the sight doesn't bother me as much as when I saw Pansy Parkinson with - NO. I have to cut short my thoughts for yet another time today.

Malfoy returns his eyes to my face again and grins cruelly. "I'd watch those two if I were you, Potter." He gives a sudden snort. "Or not. After all, as I once told you, you don't want to go wasting your time on the wrong sort."

I remember Malfoy saying something to that effect the second time I ever met him... I rather feel that my reaction to his comments should be somewhat more violent, recalling that incident. Instead, I find myself calmly hanging in the air, my eyes fixed on his.

He narrows those pale blue pupils and stares back. I find myself wishing he'd say something, do something...

*********************

You're waiting for someone 

To put you together

You're waiting for someone to push you away

There's always another wound to discover

There's always something more you wish he'd say

*********************

We stay fixed here for minutes that feel so long I wonder that the sky doesn't darken and night doesn't fall.

He reaches out suddenly, and traces a finger down the side of my face. He's so cold... 

"Malfoy... Draco?" I say tentatively.

He draws his hand back and snorts even louder than before, laughing derisively. 

I stay on my broom and watch his back as he flies away. I can see the pale skin on his neck through his black robe. 

Malfoy has a beautiful neck...

Horror flickers through me at the thought - I shake my head adamantly. No. NO. I can't think that. I have Ron. I have him, and he's exactly what I want. He's what I need, not some two faced, pale skinned Slytherin. 

I allow myself one more uncensored thought before turning and flying back to the Quidditch pitch – back to Ron...

# Why then, can't I feel that way?

*********************

He's everything you want 

He's everything you need

He's everything inside of you 

That you wish you could be

He says all the right things 

At exactly the right time

But he means nothing to you

And you don't know why...

*********************

**Asuka, 23 December 2000.**


End file.
